


Something That Survived The Years

by TheDeathEcchi



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Comedy, F/M, Fluff, Humor, Meihem - Freeform, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-30
Updated: 2017-08-30
Packaged: 2018-12-21 14:24:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11946126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDeathEcchi/pseuds/TheDeathEcchi
Summary: Despite, or perhaps, ironically, Mei doesn't handle change well.





	Something That Survived The Years

Despite, or perhaps, ironically, Mei doesn't handle change well.

She might be a climatologist, and used to things like sudden drops in atmospheric pressure, or spikes in temperature, but that's different. That's her job. Though she can't control them, she expects them, and is always prepared for such things. Except for one incident in particular. 

She doesn't handle change well. And certainly not nine years of it in, to her, was as swift as a single night's sleep.

China is so different from what she remembers. It had always been a hub of technology, but nearly a decade has changed things so much it was almost unrecognizable. Signs changed, streets changed, people changed. The Omnic Crisis left deep scars, and it showed in the callous glares people tossed to the rare one she saw. Hateful glares. Icy glares. It scares her.

Naturally, when Mei returned to China, her first stop was her home. But it wasn't hers anymore. Her parents, either from heartbreak or something else, were long gone, her childhood home now belonging to an entirely different family altogether. She apologizes for interrupting them and runs, before the tears start to fall.

Her colleagues' homes suffer the same fates. All traces of her former life, gone to the cruel hands of time.

"This is...horrible..."

She sat on a park bench, head in her hands, body shaking. Snowball does his best to comfort her, and it works, if only for a moment.

The rumbling of her stomach jolts her out of her musings. When had she last eaten? From the rather loud sound she made, it must've been a long time ago.

She manages to drag herself to a food stall nearby, drawn by the smell of dumplings and spices. Mei orders six and takes a seat, digging into her lunch. The familiar explosion of flavor on her tongue is comfortingly familiar, and for a moment, she's home again. The home she knew.

"Whadda load'a garbage!"

Mei nearly chokes on her dumpling at the loud, grating voice. She turns, noticing a man who most certainly is _not_ a local. He's naked from the waist up, wearing ratty, patched shorts, revealing one human leg and the other a metal peg leg. His arm is likewise metal. Both look as though they were slapped together from trash, but surprisingly functional, evident by the perfectly straight accusatory finger he gives the stand owner. A massive spiked tire is strapped to his back, and she can only imagine its purpose. His blonde, burnt hair is almost alight ( _'That's impossible.'_ , Mei thinks, but in her line of work, that word has little meaning). He glares hard at the owner, amber eyes narrowed into dangerous, blade-like slits.

"Wot kinda slop you slinging, mate?" he asks, in a thick Australian accent. "Ah wouldn't feed this t'my dog!" A beat. "Ah ain't got one, but ah still wouldn't serve him this sorry excuse for food."

"Please, sir," squeaks out the server. "If you're unsatisfied with your meal, I could--"

"Yer darn roight, ah'm 'unsatisfied'!" He makes air quotes with his hands, metal fingers squeaking. "Ah know all tha best places 'round here, and this shore ain't one of 'em! Those dumplings were greaser than ah am!"

Mei frowns, stuffing a dumpling into her mouth and finishing it in two bites. They were fine to her. No accounting for taste, she supposed, looking at the strange man.

"Oh, yeah," he grins, resting his elbow on the counter, his anger apparently forgotten in favor of boasting. "You name it, ah've been there. Italy, France, Florida, ain't no place Junkrat ain't been to, and dined like a roight king. Hell, even this place, all topsy-turvy like it is, I've been ev'rywhich where. Yah, ah know the best places to fill yer stomach."

Irritation reaching a boiling point, Mei scarfed down the rest of her food, slamming down her bowl and chopsticks, startling both the stranger and owner.

"If you know all the best places, why don't you leave so some of us can enjoy ourselves?" she snapped. "Or better yet, simply keep your know-it-all mouth shut!"

Junkrat stares at her, eyes wide and mouth open, shocked that this plump, unassuming woman had just told him off. His surprise quickly fades, however, and he rounds on her.

"Ya got a sharp tongue on you, sheila! Got any idea who yer talkin' to?"

"Yes!" She hops out of her seat and puts her hands on her hips. "A loud, bigmouthed bully who should learn some manners! And good food, while he's at it!"

For the first time in a long time, Junkrat is silent. He looks over Mei, studying her. She's certainly mad, but he'd be a river in the desert if she didn't look adorable. 

"Okay." he smirks, folding his arms. "You think you know more about where to find a good meal in this place? Prove it, sheila."

"My name isn't 'sheila'!" the brunette replies, stamping her foot and puffing her cheeks, and Junkrat resists the urge to coo over how precious that is. "It's Mei! And I'd gladly like to get some egg on your face!"

Before Junkrat can wonder if that's a local dish, Mei fishes some money out of her pocket, enough to pay for both of them. She slaps it on the counter, thanks the owner, and grabs Junkrat's arm, pulling him off his stool, dragging him off. "Quite a grip on you, sheila!" he notes, then cackles like a madman.

-/-/-/-/-

Mei curses herself for not thinking about what else has changed. Like her favorite barbecue place that is now a convenience store (how many does the world need?), her favorite dumpling stand that's now a monument to those who fell in the first Omnic Crisis, a taiyaki stand she loved that's now someplace she'd never ever visit again ever, covering her red face as Junkrat begs for just 'one quick bog'.

Along the way, they sample all they can from different shops. Mei's appetite is nearly endless, a mixture of both spite and genuine hunger. She desires not only to see her belly filled, but to wipe that smug look off of Junkrat's face.

But the steam leaves her as she makes it to what she hoped was her last chance to knock him down a peg. It was a place that had, to her, the best phoenix claws in China. And now, in a bid to appeal to a more foreign market, was just another burger joint.

Mei nurses her sorrows over a milkshake. The day had been a bust. But to Junkrat...

"Yer one crazy lady, sheila!" laughed Junkrat between bites of a triple jalapeño bacon burger half the size of his head. "Ain't never seen anyone put it away like you did!"

His praise felt as hollow as she felt inside. It wasn't just being unable to show up Junkrat. Nine years was a longer time than she thought. All the places that were familiar, comforting, that she went to on a regular basis...gone. She felt like an outsider in her own home. 

"Why tha long face, dearie?" asked the blonde, finishing off his meal. "Milk gone bad?"

She shook her head. "It's not that. It's just..." A sigh escaped her mouth. "I've been...away for a while. And so much has changed. All the places I used to go to...they're not around anymore."

A genuine look of concern crosses Junkrat's face. "Hey, no need for a droopy face."

But it's all she can do not to cry. So much of her old life is gone. A single tear falls, and Junkrat notices, despite her attempt to hide it. And for the first time that day, an idea sparks in him.

"Hey, ah know one place you might like."

"Not the red-light district again!"

"Nah, someplace else." It's his turn to take the initiative again, and he practically yanks her out of her seat.

They weave through throngs of people, down alleyways, until they reach a little hole in the wall place. Mei gasps at the calm, serene sir of it, the neon sign outside. It's quaint, it's small, it's ramshackle. And it's survived the nine years she was on ice. 

"It's a pain to get ta this place." Junkrat smirks. "But they've got--"

"--the best tea in China..." Mei finishes.

"Yeah, 'zactly!"

In they step, and the proprietor is about to throw Junkrat out, until he sees Mei.

" _*Ó, wǒ de shàngdì_..." he whispers, lowering the broom he'd been brandishing. "Mei? Is that you?"

She tears up at the familiar face and nods. "It's me..." she whispers.

He takes off his glasses and rubs his eyes, unsure at what he's seeing. "You...haven't aged a day."

A wry laugh escapes her. "I suppose I haven't."

He ushers them both to a table ("He's a friend." Mei vouches for Junkrat), and he's off into the cupboard. He returns with the fixings for tea and leaves the two to their work. 

The sights and sounds are just as familiar. The plush cushions about the tables, the hardwood flooring, the angled ceiling, and the medley of tea leaves wafting throughout. Mei goes about making her tea. It's been nine years since she made it the old fashioned way, but every motion comes back to her as though she'd done it yesterday. The leaves sink to the bottom of her cup, she takes a sip, and sighs. It's a happy sigh, a blissful sigh. 

An 'I am home' sigh. 

"Toldjya ah know tha best places." Junkrat smiles.

"I admit you're fairly worldly." Mei replies, smiling at him for the first time. "But you're still a know-it-all bully."

Junkrat throws up his hands in mock defeat, gulping down his tea. "Guilty as charged." He glances at his wrist, and balks. "Sweet Jesus, ah'm runnin' late! Roadhog'll have mah guts fer garters!"

He jumps to his feet and thrusts a band out towards Mei. "Pleasure makin' yer acquaintence, sheila!" She nervously extends her hand, and he shakes it with a bit more force than necessary, and he whips around, out the door in seconds.

"He must be very busy..." Mei comments, taking another sip.

Moments later, the proprietor turns on the TV, and Mei nearly drops her cup. A Moment in Crime is on, and right there, for all the world to see, is the image of the man she'd just spent the last several hours with, and of the show was to be believed, he had a list of priors miles long. An international criminal the world over, an explosives enthusiast. A madman with a real grudge against the Omnics.

"Mei, isn't that your friend?" asked the proprietor. 

Her eyes the size of pinpricks, Mei can only take another sip. And shortly after, the sound of police sirens (and perhaps a chopper) reach her ears.

Nine years passed between the anomaly and now. Mei still can't handle change.

Except maybe one.

**Author's Note:**

> *oh my god


End file.
